The Dangerous Lord Darrington (21 page)

The truth was that Beth Forrester had undermined his defences. As they travelled together he had begun to believe they were just a man and a woman, enjoying each other’s company. But all the time she had thought him a traitor. No wonder she had believed she could buy his silence by offering herself to him! Guy glanced down at the figure sitting upright and silent beside him and his anger melted away. What right had he to criticise her? He had chosen to retire from society rather than work to clear his name; he could hardly blame the woman if she believed ill of him. He said, by way of making amends, ‘We should be at the crossroads very soon. Odd that the lady should give that as her forwarding address if she was departing from Portsmouth.’

‘I had wondered about that,’ she replied thoughtfully. ‘Unless her experience of Portsmouth made her loath to put up in the town again.’

‘Well, I hope we may soon know the truth.’ He raised his whip to point towards a large building in the distance. ‘If I am not mistaken, that is the inn ahead of us.’

Five minutes later they clattered into the yard of the White Bear. It was a large old building with galleries on two storeys surrounding the yard and was full of bustling activity when they arrived. The ostlers were huddled in one corner, talking amongst themselves, and did not immediately dash out to take charge of the curricle team. The earl, aware of Beth’s fretting impatience, called to them to hurry and once the horses were under control he jumped down and ran around to help Beth to alight.

‘Not the most efficient hostelry I have ever visited,’ he remarked as he gave her his hand. ‘Not even the landlord to welcome us.’

‘Perhaps they are very busy today,’ she remarked, setting off immediately for the inn door. ‘Let us hope the service is better inside.’

He followed her into the inn and past the noisy taproom. As she hesitated outside the coffee room a harassed-looking waiter came out, wiping his hands on his apron. He gave a nod in their direction and asked civilly if he could be of assistance.

‘We are looking for a Madame de Beaune,’ said Guy. ‘We understand she is staying here.’

The waiter froze, his brows coming together. He said slowly, ‘Madame de Beaune, you say?’

‘Yes.’ The man continued to stare at them and Guy added sharply, ‘Well, is she here? Out with it, man.’

The waiter swallowed, and looked around, as if seeking assistance.

‘Please,’ said Beth. ‘We have travelled all the way from London, please tell us if she is here.’

‘Well…aye, she is, in a manner of speaking.’ The waiter was no longer wiping his hands on his apron, he was wringing them. ‘She’s here, but she…she’s dead.’

Chapter Fourteen

B
eth swayed at the waiter’s announcement and felt the earl’s steadying arm slip around her waist to support her. Before she could speak a portly gentleman in a brown frockcoat and grey wig appeared and the waiter turned to him.

‘This lady and gentleman have just arrived from London, sir, and were asking after the French lady.’ With that the waiter hurried away, grateful to have shuffled off responsibility.

‘I am Sir Jeffrey Farnborough, the magistrate,’ announced the portly gentleman, coming forwards. ‘May I ask what your business is here?’

‘Perhaps first we could find the lady a seat?’ the earl responded. He was still supporting Beth, holding her close against him, and she dare not free herself, afraid that her legs would not support her.

Sir Jeffrey took one look at her face and nodded. ‘Aye, of course. This way.’ He led them through a winding passage to a small dining room well away from the entrance. ‘Very well,’ he said, shutting the door. ‘What was your business with Madame de Beaune?’

The earl guided Beth to a chair and hovered over her solicitously. ‘Leave this to me,’ he murmured quietly before straightening to address the magistrate. ‘We met Madame on her previous visit to England in ’87,’ he said easily. ‘She was travelling then with her husband, who had come over on business. We planned to renew the acquaintance. Unfortunately we were delayed getting to town and Madame had already departed, but she left us a note telling us she would be here.’

‘And do you have the note with you?’

The earl lifted one eyebrow at the magistrate’s question. ‘I’m afraid not. It was very brief, I did not think I should need to refer to it again.’ He said, anticipating the next question. ‘Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Lord Darrington. And this is Mrs Forrester.’

‘Well, I am sorry, my lord, madam, but it seems you have wasted your journey. As the waiter informed you, Madame de Beaune died last night.’

‘May I enquire the cause of death?’ asked the earl, gently swinging his quizzing glass.

‘She was murdered, my lord.’

Beth’s eyes widened, but she kept silent.

‘Indeed?’ Lord Darrington raised the quizzing glass to his eye ‘How shocking. Would it be indelicate to enquire how…or why?’

‘As to that, sir, we know a thief stole in during the night. Poor woman disturbed him going through her luggage and he stabbed her. The man in the next room heard the rumpus and set up the alarm, but the killer was too quick. He jumped out of the window and was away.’

‘How very dreadful,’ murmured Beth.

The magistrate shook his head. ‘As you say, madam, dreadful. Well, I must get on. If you have just arrived, I suppose there is nothing you can tell me to help me with my case. Do you know her family, for instance?’

‘No,’ muttered Beth.

‘We understand she had only recently arrived from France,’ put in the earl.

‘Ah, an
émigré
.’ Sir Jeffrey gave a loud sigh. ‘A sad end, then. So you’ll be going back to London now, I suppose.’

‘Yes, but not quite yet,’ replied the earl. ‘After such a shock I think we need a little time to reflect. If you do not object, Sir Jeffrey, I plan to order some refreshment. May I offer you…?’

‘Thank ’ee, but no,’ said the magistrate, puffing out his cheeks. ‘I must get on. There is a deal to do before I am finished here.’

He took his leave; as the door closed behind him, Beth turned her gaze upon the earl.

‘Why did you not tell him the truth?’

‘That you wanted to question the woman about a previous attack? I thought it might complicate matters.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘You are still very pale. Sit there while I order refreshments for us.’

‘Oh, no, I am not hungry.’

‘Nonsense. We have not eaten since early this morning. It will put heart into you.’

He strode out of the room and Beth was left in the silence. She was very shaken by all that she had heard and not a little apprehensive. She told herself that there was nothing to fear with so many people bustling about the inn, but she could not ignore her relief when the earl returned.

‘The landlady is even now preparing a meal for us and I have ordered coffee to be fetched immediately,’ he announced. ‘I will send for wine if you would prefer—’

‘No, no, a cup of coffee would be very welcome,’ she said.

Even as Beth spoke a young maid appeared with a tray, from which she deposited cups, a jug of milk and a coffee pot on the table in front of her.

‘Coffee, my lord?’ Beth tried to lift the pot, but her hands were shaking so much that she quickly put it down again.

‘Here, let me.’

‘I beg your pardon.’ She watched him pour the coffee into a cup and hand it to her. ‘I despise such weakness.’

‘It is the shock of what you have just heard,’ he replied.

‘I admit I am surprised Sir Jeffrey was so ready to share the details with us.’

‘I suspect he is more used to dealing with the occasional theft than a murder. Perhaps he needed to talk about it.’

‘Poor woman, such a dreadful thing to happen.’ Beth put down her cup. ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘It is very selfish of me, but I cannot help thinking that now there is no one to speak for Simon…’

The earl drew closer and handed her his own handkerchief. Gratefully she wiped her eyes and fought back her tears, determined not to break down in front of the earl.

‘If only we had come here yesterday!’ she muttered, clasping her hands in her lap, the handkerchief buried between them. ‘To be so very near and to fail…’

The earl leaned across and caught her hands in his own. ‘You must not give up hope yet, madam. There may be other ways to help your brother. In spite of my seclusion I am not without influence.’

She looked up at him, his image blurred by tears. Her hands twisted beneath his own and she gripped his fingers.

‘Would you really help us, sir? After all I have said…’

‘Hush.’ Freeing one hand, he took up the handkerchief and gently wiped her cheeks. ‘I am very tenacious, Mrs Forrester. Once I am determined on a course I see it through.’

He was smiling at her. Beth wondered why she had ever thought his eyes hard, for now they were blue-grey, warm and soft as a dove. But there was nothing soft about her reaction to his smile. It warmed her soul, putting all her fears and worries to flight. He caught her chin between finger and thumb. She did not pull away, but gazed up trustingly, a fluttering excitement growing inside. His thumb stroked her lower lip and she closed her eyes, a sound between a moan and a sigh escaping from her. Her whole body was tingling. The warning bells clamoured in her head: she should pull back from this madness. She made a feeble attempt to free herself from his grasp.

‘My lord.’ Her protest died before it was uttered and the words escaped as a sigh.

‘Guy,’ he murmured, so close that his breath kissed her cheek. ‘Call me by my name.’

She could not breathe, her body was in thrall to his will. She could not pull away and in a wild moment of elation she realised she did not want to. They were sitting so close she could feel the warmth of his thigh pressing against her own. Guy. She would say his name and he would kiss her, pull her into his arms and she would be lost. The thought of it sent the blood pounding through her veins. Her heart was leaping to her throat, constricting her breath while the aching longing between her thighs was so intense she thought she might faint. Only a thunderbolt could prevent him taking her.

The door crashed open.

‘Here we are, m’lord—dinner!’

The waiter’s cheerful announcement brought Beth jolting back to the present. She jumped away from the earl, her cheeks burning. Lord Darrington showed no such embarrassment. He shifted in his chair and watched calmly as the servant began to set the table.

‘You are lucky to get this,’ the waiter informed them. ‘Such excitement there’s been that the Cook went off in hysterics. It was only the landlady throwing a bucket of water over her that brought her back to anything like her old self.’

‘I doubt if it is every day that a murder takes place here,’ remarked the earl.

‘Never seen anything like it before in my life,’ affirmed the waiter. ‘I know the old woman was very demanding, and didn’t speak a word of English, but she didn’t deserve to be stabbed to death now, did she?’

‘Old woman?’ said Guy. ‘How old?’

The servant shrugged. ‘Couldn’t rightly say, three-score at least, I do reckon. And a poor do for the young mistress travelling with her—widow-woman of the old lady’s son, I heard. I don’t say I agree with how the French king and his lords was treating the poor people, but I don’t hold with running amok and killing folk, neither.’

Beth sat very still. A glance at the earl saw that he, too, was giving the waiter his full attention. He said, ‘So who was the younger lady—did you know her name?’

‘Aye, my lord, she was Madame de Beaune, too, of course. That upset she was, she left the inn as soon as it was clear the old woman was dead and no one knows where she’s gone.’

‘Sir Jeffrey said nothing about a younger woman,’ put in Beth.

‘Probably doesn’t know.’

‘But he is the magistrate,’ protested Beth.

The waiter gave her a pained look. ‘Well, if he didn’t ask I doubt if anyone told ’im. After all, what good would it do to go fetching the poor young lady back here now?
She
didn’t murder her mother-in-law and she was that scared she would be murdered, too, there was no stopping her when she said she was leaving.’

‘And just how did she leave?’

Beth marvelled that the earl could speak so calmly when her own excitement was barely contained.

‘Hopped on the Southampton stage, she did.’ The waiter grinned. ‘Paid her shot and disappeared.’ Placing the last of the dishes on the table, the waiter nodded to them and went out, whistling.

Beth fixed her eyes on the earl.

‘Do you think…?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, Mrs Forrester, I do. The Madame de Beaune we seek is still alive. All we have to do is find her.’

Beth furrowed her brow. ‘Simon said the de Beaunes had been visiting Madame’s sister, who was married to an Englishman and living in a village not far from Portsmouth.’ She looked up. ‘There cannot be that many gentlemen with French wives.’

‘And it is conceivable that Madame was making her way there. We could start by making enquiries along the route taken by the Southampton stage.’

Beth nodded. She picked up her fork.

‘Let us get on with our meal, then, and get to it.’ She paused. The earl was watching her, a faint smile curving his lips. ‘Is something wrong, my lord?’